by Lynn Emery
“Why didn’t you escape then?” LaShaun asked the obvious.
“I know, I know.” Patsy shook her head. “But he pulled out the phone so I couldn’t call nobody, and I didn’t have a car or nothing. Besides, I was real high and not thinking straight. He made sure we always had some sweet weed. That was some strong stuff,” Patsy sighed.
LaShaun got the distinct impression Patsy missed those fun times. Instead she pretended to be sympathetic. “Sounds awful, feeling trapped and part of it was your fault.”
“You understand me in a way no one else ever has.” Patsy smiled at LaShaun.
“Thanks,” LaShaun replied and smiled back. “So Tommy and you went with his friends to find out about the ‘real hot times’.”
“No, Tommy didn’t come back. That’s the last time I saw him alive. I swear it.” Patsy’s bottom lip quivered. She even managed to squeeze a single tear out that slid down her rosy cheek.
“Here you go, calm down.” LaShaun handed her a fresh napkin even though she was sure that one tear would dry up soon. “You told this to Chief Arceneaux and Detective Broussard, I take it.”
Patsy shook her head. “No. I was afraid they’d arrest me for drugs. Anyway, that acting sheriff woman already treated me like trailer park trash. I was ashamed to tell it all. But I told them the important part; that those weird friends of his might have gotten him killed.”
“Okay, so why are you telling me?” LaShaun gazed back at her waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Please tell that hottie Chief Deputy Broussard that none of this was my fault. He’ll believe you. And you know how to deal with that supernatural stuff.” Patsy let out a long, noisy hiss of air. She retrieved her purse from the floor and stood. “I feel better already.”
“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” LaShaun stood as well and continued to study her.
“I’ll bet,” Patsy replied with a bright smile. She glanced at the wall clock. “I better get moving or my sister will start to wonder. I don’t want her involved in any of this. She still thinks of me as her kid sister needing protection.”
LaShaun wondered just how gullible that sister could possibly be. The entire town knew Patsy’s misdeeds. Even they had no idea just what this little hometown girl had been up to though. Reverend Fletcher could preach a year’s worth of sermons based on Patsy.
“It means a lot that you trust me enough to share all these details,” said LaShaun, reverting to her old self, the one who could put on an award winning acting performance. She placed a hand on Patsy’s shoulder. “My personal history isn’t squeaky clean either. But people deserve a second chance. Call me if you ever need to talk again. Will you do that?”
“I most certainly will, LaShaun. I feel such a connection to you.” Patsy blinked and sniffed. She brushed her eyes.
“I’m glad. Take care.” LaShaun wore her best benevolent smile as she rubbed Patsy’s shoulder.
“Thanks for being so kind.” Patsy turned to go then paused and faced LaShaun again. “One more thing.”
“Yes?” Ahh, LaShaun thought, here it comes.
“Tommy and his friends stopped going to that old house to party. They found this old place farther down the bayou. I think very strange things go on in those woods. That’s in case you want to look into it one night.” Patsy’s eyes sparkled as she gazed back at LaShaun.
“I just might visit those woods one night.” LaShaun smiled at her.
Chapter 13
Two days later and a week before Halloween, Chase’s dark eyebrows pulled together as he drove his Ford truck. LaShaun sat in the passenger’s seat humming along with a song playing from the radio. The scenery along I-10 outside Lafayette flowed by. Sunlight warmed up the extended cab and banished the early morning chill. The Friday seven o’clock morning commuter traffic caused a steady stream of vehicles on both sides of the divided interstate highway. Mixed in with the smaller cars, eighteen wheelers moved in and out of lanes. But LaShaun knew watching the road wasn’t the reason for Chase’s intense contemplation. He was thinking ahead to their interview with Emanuel “Manny” Young, the Blood River Ripper. The bright morning and blue sky above contrasted with their mission, to visit a secure forensic facility filled with those judged to be criminally insane.
LaShaun looked at the green and brown vegetation flashing by as they drove. Occasional glimpses of swamps could be seen. They approached the elevated portion of I-10 over Whiskey Bay. As they got over the water she stretched forward to see more of what lay below. A string of four flat barges pushed by a white tugboat chugged through the muddy water way.
“This is another beautiful day. Kinda nice having fall weather even if it doesn’t last all that long.” LaShaun got one last look before their seventy mile an hour speed took them over the top of the twin span and down onto the ground level stretch of pavement.
“Humph,” was Chase’s only reply. “Did Mr. Young leave last night like he said?”
“Yes. He’s staying with friends in St. Francisville, which is only a fifteen minute drive from Feliciana Forensic. He likes to stay the weekend and visit with Manny twice.” LaShaun stretched her legs. “He’s very devoted to his grandson. You have to admire him for that. A lot of families back away under the circumstances.”
“The rest of the Young and Hebert families did just that. Mr. Orin and his wife are about the only ones who stuck by Manny. At first most of them were just as vocal that Manny was innocent. When the facts came out even they couldn’t stomach him. Three weeks into the trial his granddaddy was in that courtroom all by his lonesome. His wife’s health started going down about that time, too.” Chase shook his head. “Tragic situation all around.”
“I guess it was tense with the victim’s families there, too. Had to have been hard on Mr. Young facing them.” LaShaun looked at Chase.
“That’s the thing, just two people showed up. A brother of the male victim came to the trial, and the aunt of one female victim.”
Chase broke off to pay attention to a fast moving low slung sports car riding his bumper. He eased into another lane. The blue BMW 650 I zipped past them and blended back into their lane ahead of them.
“Idiot! Another reason I’m happy to be in podunk back roads bayou country.” Chase blew out air.
“Relax and enjoy the view. We’re driving through lovely country on a lovely day.” LaShaun placed a hand on his firm thigh.
“Sure. Just an entertaining road trip to see a serial killer. To make it even more special we get to hang out with his equally crazy and dangerous roomies. Good times.” Chase glanced at her sideways. “I don’t know why you’re in such a cheerful mood.”
“I can’t help loving extra time with you, even under the circumstances.” LaShaun winked at him.
Chase covered her hand with his and rubbed the stone of her engagement ring with his thumb. “You’re a sweet talker. In a minute you’re going to convince me to have a good time.”
“We’ve got sunshine and good music. We can stop at one of those great restaurants for lunch on the way back. Make it a day.”
“Lunch, yes. But I’ve got to get back. We’re meeting with the district attorney, state police and Iberia Parish Sheriff this afternoon.” Chase shrugged when LaShaun pursed her lips in disappointment. “They’re all eager to hear what I find out.”
“And no wonder. He was only connected to twelve murders. Eight more are unsolved.” LaShaun’s bright mood dimmed.
He let go of her hand to hold the wheel again. “Yeah, that was some killing season Manny had.”
“You don’t know he did them all though. No conclusive evidence even though they fit the pattern. I’ve been reading up on the subject. Some experts believe there are at least two more killers in our area alone,” LaShaun said.
“Have you been listening to that jerk Schaffer? Please.” Chase gave a grunt of irritation.
“Give the devil his due. Schaffer interviewed some very credible experts on criminal behavior and paranorm
al phenomena. I watched his show Tuesday night.”
“You’ve gone over to the dark side,” Chase quipped.
She laughed. “Schaffer isn’t ‘the enemy’ really. He’s wants to grab the ratings and keep his show from being cancelled.”
“We should be so lucky.”
“There’s another show that seems to be more popular, you know the one. They do investigations, and spend the night in so-called haunted houses or buildings. Anyway, Schaffer said something that made sense. Manny may have had a partner in crime. It’s unusual, but not unheard of for two sadistic killers to team up.”
“If Manny did have a partner he’s good at leaving no traces behind. Must be a ghost,” Chase retorted, then sucked in a breath. “I can’t believe I just said that to you of all people.”
“Better me than Schaffer,” LaShaun said dryly.
“Amen. I can just hear the next commercial. ‘A lead investigator with the Vermillion Parish Sheriff Department believes a ghost is stalking its next victim!’ M.J. wouldn’t fire me, she’d strangle me.” Chase shook his head. When LaShaun laughed again he grimaced at her. “I’m not even joking.”
LaShaun tried to answer, but couldn’t stop laughing. Finally she brought herself under control. She breathed deeply a few times to recover. “Sorry, nervous energy.”
“Glad I could help.” Chase took one had off the steering wheel long enough to tickle her cheek.
“Orin Young would be all over that slip of the tongue.” LaShaun grew solemn again at the thought of the grim faced older man.
“Yeah, his ‘the devil made him do it’ defense.” Chase drove on wearing a slight frown. “Honey, you wouldn’t happen to have any kind of vision about this whole deal. I mean it is kind of crazy that Willie Dupuis knew Manny.”
She nodded slowly. “Patsy described some strange happenings going on that sound a lot like what Willie told us about.”
“What?” Chase looked from the road too long and the truck drifted out of their lane. A blue Chevrolet honked at him, and Chase pulled the steering wheel with a jerk to straighten the truck again.
“You might want to pay attention,” LaShaun said calmly.
“You might want to avoid shocking the hell out of me with bombshells about my investigation,” Chase replied in a tart tone.
“I’m not sure how much of what she said was even true, Chase. Besides that there may be no connection at all. She and Tommy apparently met up with friends for drinking, drugging and sex. The parties were in some old house south of Black Bayou.”
“Oh well that narrows it down,” Chase said with a snort.
“Yeah, I know. Anyway, seems the whole point was for them to get wasted and laid. Pardon my crude and blunt description.” LaShaun gazed at the road ahead as she thought about Patsy’s tale.
“Wasted and laid parties fit Patsy’s taste, and Tommy’s. I’m not surprised those two found each other.” Chase guided his truck up the incline to the large Mississippi River Bridge into Baton Rouge. “Nah, it’s too wild to think that Patsy and Willie were running in the same circles.”
“But possible.” LaShaun looked at him.
“Sleepy Vermillion Parish has its share of folks who enjoy gettin’ their freak on. Trust me. The French Quarter in New Orleans ain’t got nothin’ on us.” Chase shook his head.
LaShaun raised an eyebrow at him. “You forget you’re talking to the infamous wild Rousselle girl? I caused some spicy gossip about my behavior back in the day.”
“I know,” Chase glanced at her sideways. “I’m hoping at least some of those stories are true.”
He laughed when she slapped his arm, and even harder when she glared at him. Before long they were laughing together and singing along with the Cajun songs blaring from his CD player. For a while longer LaShaun could almost believe they were on a pleasure trip. They passed through Baton Rouge quickly despite the morning traffic. Soon they were on historic Highway 61 heading out of East Baton Rouge Parish. Industrial plants spread out along the corridor that led into a portion of Louisiana’s Plantation Country. They passed the Port Hudson Civil War Battle site, and decided they would return to visit the museum. Twenty minutes later they turned onto Highway 68 leading to East Feliciana Parish. The two lane paved roadway dipped down and back up over small hills. Tall trees and thick brush lined both sides and arched overhead to create a leafy tunnel. They had a brief glimpse of Asphodel Plantation around a curve. Minutes later yellow signs warned them not to pick up hitchhikers along the road. The white wooden fence and pretty pastures with grazing cattle gave way to chain fencing with barbed wire looped along the top. Dixon Correctional Institute looked deceptively peaceful. Less than a mile from the highway prisoners were outside. Some played basketball. Others lifted weights. Most stood or sat around in groups. LaShaun felt the simmering anger, frustration and confusion coming from them. She turned away in an attempt to shield herself from the onslaught of strong emotions. She had to get ready. Soon she would be in an even more tumultuous place.
“Anything wrong?” Chase said.
“I’ll be okay in a minute.”
LaShaun closed her eyes and mentally formed a peaceful image; her grandmother’s garden in spring when she was seven years old. Her mother, Francine, was home for once and seemed happy. Francine played jump rope while Monmon Odette cut roses and gardenias. Francine’s musical laughter made the sunshine warmer and brighter.
LaShaun focused on those memories, and the sick feeling gradually subsided. She recited a prayer several times as she took in and let out slow breaths. Strength flowed into her for what she knew would be the challenge to come. A gentle touch on her arm made her open her eyes. They were in a line of vehicles waiting to enter the grounds. A huge sign with white letters reading East Louisiana State Hospital told her they’d arrived at their destination. Chase’s dark eyebrows pulled together as he gazed at her with concern in his dark eyes.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go through with this. I’m getting the jitters, and I’m no psychic.”
“I’m okay. Don’t worry.” LaShaun sat up straight, took his hand and squeezed it.
“Would you tell me if you weren’t?” Chase said.
“Yes,” she said quietly.
Satisfied, he looked ahead again. “The white truck up there, that’s Orin Young.”
LaShaun followed his gaze. “He’s staring into his rearview mirror, looking for us I think. Wave at him.”
Chase waved several times to get his attention. The older man finally stuck an arm out of his window and waved back. “He’s hoping you’ll somehow make everyone believe that Manny isn’t responsible. At the very least he wants to save him from death row.”
“Like anyone would listen to me. I worry that we’re raising his expectations,” LaShaun said.
“Me and M.J. kept telling him the goal is to get information to clear up other murders, not to pull off some rescue for Manny,” Chase replied.
“People hear what they want to hear, Chase. Every fake psychic and con artist knows that.”
LaShaun tapped a foot as the line slowly moved forward. Orin Young’s truck was three vehicles ahead of them. He slowly approached the guard station. One uniformed security guard stood checking in cars entering. Another guard stood on the exit side and examined vehicles leaving. Both glanced over the interiors of cars, and checked trucks or truck beds. LaShaun leaned forward. She was now eager to get in and meet the notorious Blood River Ripper. Chase gave her thigh a pat.
“I know, but security is too important to rush. I’m getting wound up about what we might find out, too. The cop in me likes to get all the answers.” Chase observed the guards. “They’re doing a good job.”
“Remember, Manny won’t let you be in the room with us,” LaShaun replied.
Chase scowled to show how he felt about that. “Yeah.”
Minutes later it was their turn. Chase flashed his ID and badge, and then assured the guard he’d locked up his handgun. The guard checked the metal lock
ed tool box right behind the extended cab.
“We’re going to visit a prisoner at the Forensic Unit, “Chase told her.
“Right. Got you on this list. Sorry for the wait. Y’all have a nice day.” The woman smiled at him.
“Thanks.” Chase drove on keeping to the fifteen mile an hour speed limit on the grounds. “Like coming here could ever start off a nice day.”
“The grounds are beautiful. The hospital opened in 1848, and the first patients were brought on flatboats down the Mississippi River from New Orleans. The main building up ahead is on the National Historic Register. It looks like an old antebellum mansion, lovely with marble floors and even a ballroom on the third floor. But in the basement patients were kept in leg and arm chains attached to the wall. I stayed up late reading the history since I couldn’t sleep.”
“I’d hate to be working the night shift in there on Halloween.”
They turned away from the main building. The truck tires crunched on the narrow gravel road as they went to a line of buildings south of the main building. Razor wire announced that this portion of the hospital was different. The Forensic Unit was separated from the cottages where regular patients were housed. Those patients walked around the campus with relative freedom. Some worked on the grounds.
Another guard directed them to the area for official vehicles since Chase was law enforcement. He parked and cut the engine. “We ready for this?”
LaShaun opened the passenger door. “I’m prepared.”
Chase walked around the front of the truck and helped her down, though she didn’t need him to. LaShaun gathered more strength from the firm grasp of his large hand. She smiled at him reassuringly. He led the way wearing a grim set to his jaw. They went through the security checks with no problems.
The Forensic Unit housed adults who had been admitted via court order for various reasons, mostly related to criminal cases. After signing in, Chase and LaShaun waited in a neat, but dreary waiting area. Chase walked around restlessly and stared at the pictures as he tapped the side of one thigh with a fist. LaShaun sat down in one of the vinyl covered chairs. Someone had attempted to lighten the atmosphere with plants. Yet the unit itself seemed to fight back, as if defying attempts to disguise the bleak reality. Dozens of violent men and women had to be contained to keep the public safe. LaShaun tilted her head to one side in a listening pose. When Chase approached again with a question in his dark gaze, LaShaun nodded.